Tyrannosaurus Wrecks, by Chris Goode

Contrary to report, I’m quite a sensitive guy,

And yet I terrify folks without having to try –

It drives away all future gladness

And along with itching drives me into madness:

Killing savagely isn’t my real vocation

But Jurassic times lack proper medication –

It’s a bum rap living before diazepam

And the soporific soothing of citalopram,

So every living creature runs from me

And never see me as I want to be;

If they could only know my inner self

And parlous state of mental health

They’d hug me tight and I’d reciprocate –

If only my arms were long enough – it’d be great –

But being a king who can’t take off his crown

Is something guaranteed to get you down;

I’d be in the pink

If I could hire a shrink –

A consultant is essential

When beset by issues mental;

But there’s bound to be some reaction

Amidst so much lizard-on-lizard action

So in the shade of a sapling redwood tree

I practice a little CBT

And visualize a world that’s bold and free –

All saurian dudes in mutual harmony –

Wait up – here comes a velociraptor,

And I’m so hungry I could eat a tractor;

Damn it! I’m sorry I snapped your head in two,

My bad, can’t always control the things I do;

Fella, I’m desperately sorry for your plight –

I guess this means another sleepless night.

September 2019